


A Father's Promise

by Leni



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin has returned home.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"He hadn't expected a warm reception, but as long as he held his son in his arms, he could ignore Milah's predictions."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Father's Promise

Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't part with his son through that first night. Even after Milah returned, grumbling and glaring at him, muttering under her breath that the kind thing to do for their boy would be for her to take him away and live with her parents.

"They won't take you," Rumpelstiltskin told her, shaking at the thought even though he was confident it wouldn't happen. He closed his eyes, cradling the baby closer, and thanked all gods that Milah had never been interested in learning a trade. Perhaps if she'd been able to earn her own way, her parents would have welcomed her back, but they would never take in two extra mouths to feed.

"And whose fault is that?" Milah volleyed back. "Who'll deal with the coward's wife and his son now?"

Rumpelstiltskin said nothing. He hadn't expected a warm reception, but as long as he held his son in his arms, he could ignore Milah's predictions. He wasn't the first man to run from a battlefield, after all; he was just the first desperate enough to hurry back home so soon after his defection.

With time, people would forget.

(No, no, they wouldn't. Not with his broken leg as a constant reminder. Not when that cursed limp would brand him until the day he died.)

"It will be all right," he said, both to Milah and to himself.

Milah's bitter laugh conveyed her thoughts on that. "How?"

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, taking care that the movement didn't jostle the baby. "I still can work. We will sell my thread, just like before. You'll see, we will be fine."

The silence eventually drove him to raise his head and check for Milah's reaction. His wife was staring at him, incredulity and anger warring in her expression. "You are a fool, Rumple," she finally sneered, shoving back the covers to lay on the bed, her back turned to him. "I wish... Oh, what I wish doesn't matter now, does it?"

Rumpelstiltskin glanced at her for a while longer, hoping she would relent and at least look back over her shoulder and bite out a grudging goodnight. "I'm sorry," he whispered at last, when no sign of forgiveness came his way. Then he turned to Baelfire, to the little boy who had finally inspired him to do what needed to be done, in order to survive. 

"I'm sorry, Bae," he said to him too, already aware of what it was like, to grow up as the coward's son. But _he_ would stay, and most of the town's ire would be focused on him. Baelfire didn't need suffer as he had. He would be welcome. He would be happy. He already was a perfect little boy, ten little fingers and ten little toes, a strong grip and a nose that promised he'd look nothing like his father's side of the family.

That was good.

The fewer reminders of Malcolm and himself, the easier it would make it for people to accept Baelfire as their children's companion, and eventually, to respect him in whatever trade he chose.

It had worked for Rumpelstiltskin, before he was called away to war. It would work for Baelfire as well.

"You will be okay, you'll see," he swore. "Whatever I have to do-" even the unthinkable, as he already had "-I'll make sure you're happy, my boy."

 

The End  
03/09/16


End file.
